Brera was a fascinating neighbourhood, where an air of history and mystery coexisted. Amelia was walking through the sunny streets as a light breeze caressed her hair. She wasn’t used to this heat, so she’d often try to shelter from the sun in churches or in the entryways of palaces. She already knew Italians were friendly, but when one of the shop owners offered her a peach, even the scorching alleys seemed sweeter. She was walking alone but sure, daydreaming: her steps traced a dance on the pavement. A boy stopped her and asked for her name, then invited her to a party that night. She was startled by the invitation, and said she would think about it. She did, all afternoon, while she kept walking, enchanted every step of the way. The bright blue sky, the smell of flowers, the colors of the city. Everything spoke about a summer love affair, in a European city. Would she ever go to the party?
from The Blonde Salad